rd, and, their horses proving their mettle, the
boys dashed up to the stable, where Sargent was found at work among the
other horses.

"Indians! Indians!" shouted Dell, who arrived in the lead. "Indians have
been chasing us all afternoon. Run for your life, Jack!"

Joel swept past a moment later, accenting the situation, and as Sargent
left the corral, he caught sight of the pursuing Indians, and showed
splendid action in reaching the dug-out.

Breathless and gasping, Dell and Joel each grasped a repeating rifle,
while Sargent, in the excitement of the moment, unable to unearth the
story, buckled on a six-shooter. The first reconnoitre revealed the
Indians halted some two hundred yards distant, and parleying among
themselves. At a first glance, the latter seemed to be unarmed, and on
Sargent stepping outside the shack, the leader, the old brave, simply
held up his hand.

"They must be peaceful Indians," said Sargent to the boys, and signaled
in the leader.

The old Indian jogged forward on his tired pony, leaving his followers
behind, and on riding up, a smile was noticeable on his wrinkled visage.
He dismounted, unearthing from his scanty breech-clout a greasy, grimy
letter, and tendered it to Sargent.

The latter scanned the missive, and turning to the boys, who had
ventured forth, broke into a fit of laughter.

"Why, this is Chief Lone Wolf," said Sargent, "from the Pine Ridge
Agency, going down to see his kinsfolks in the Indian Territory. The
agent at Pine Ridge says that Lone Wolf is a peaceful Indian, and has
his permission to leave the reservation. He hopes that nothing but
kindness will be shown the old chief in his travels, and bespeaks the
confidence of any white settlers that he may meet on the way. You boys
must have been scared out of your wits. Lone Wolf only wanted to show
you this letter."

Sargent conversed with the old chief in Spanish, the others were
signaled in, when a regular powwow ensued. Dell and Joel shook hands
with all the Indians, Sargent shared his tobacco with Lone Wolf, and on
returning to their encampment at evening, each visitor was burdened with
pickled beef and such other staples as the cow-camp afforded.

CHAPTER XX

HARVEST ON THE RANGE

Joel set out for the Republican the next morning and was gone four days.
The beef ranches along the river had no men to spare, but constant
inquiry was rewarded by locating an outfit whose holdings consisted of
stock cattle.